money at the same time.”
I feel myself starting to break down.
“Honey, I'm so glad that you did it,” Mom says, taking me into her arms. “If you hadn’t, they would have killed me.”
“Maybe they wouldn’t have.”
“Yes, they would,” she says, nodding her head. "They weren’t sure if you were going to come up with the money and they were getting tired of taking care of me.”
I bury my head in my hands, not sure what to do next.
Mom runs her hand up and down my back like she used to do when I was little and my sobs turned into a full-on torrent of emotion.
My tears are not really because of what happened. I just simply feel this release of tension that I haven't felt in a really long time.
Like maybe, after all of this, we will be okay. Maybe I could even have a mom again.
The first few texts, from whom I'm assuming is Zachariah or one of his employees, made more threats about getting them the money. Then, much to my surprise, they gave me until Tuesday without adding anything to the interest-rate.
“The car just arrived, why don't we sell it?” Mom asks.
“It’s not going to sell anywhere near the price we need,” I say.
“Okay, but at least it's something and I can always go to a casino and–”
I glare at her with thunderbolts in my eyes.
“Don't look at me like that,” she says, raising her hands up. “I'm not going to go back to gambling.”
“And yet the first thing you think of is gambling,” I say sternly.
“Your car is worth, what, $3,000, I’m going to guess?”
“Don't change the subject,” I say, glaring at her. “You're not allowed to pick up a deck of cards, let alone step foot into a casino. You're an addict and you need to stay away from those places. That's how you got me into this shit in the first place.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Mom asks.
I wipe my tears and get up off the couch. I don't have a solution. We have more time, but it's not enough.
The only thing that I can think of doing is getting another credit card and hoping to God that they give me enough of a limit so that I can pay those people back.
32
Isabelle
I do the dishes and try to figure out what to do. I like doing them by hand. I actually prefer it over the dishwasher. Maybe if we had a bunch of guests here it would be different, but there are just two plates and a serving bowl. It's not too much to clean.
Mom sits in the living room watching something and obviously giving me some space. The credit card is the only way to do this.
As soon as I put the dishes in the drying rack and dry my hands, I open my laptop and look into my bank account. My savings are depleted and there is less than $300 in my main checking account.
The sale of the car would give me more money, but it would not be much. Obviously, I can't overdraft my account by much because I don't have a way to pay back the bank.
My paycheck isn’t due to come for another week and even then, I will be short. Opening another credit card is the only way that this will work.
I search a few online sites to find the best deals on credit cards and eventually decide to go with Capital One. I fill out the application and pause at the space where I have to state my income. Usually, credit cards approve you right away, but that's based on credit history as well as the stated salary.
Getting approval is one thing. Getting as high a credit limit as I need is a whole other thing.
I don't want to do this, technically it’s committing fraud, but there's no way that I would get this much credit if I told them the truth about my salary.
I type in $175,000 into the space for my salary and pray that this is enough.
A few more pages of information later, I get a pop-up that says that my information has been submitted and I will get my reply via email.
I keep refreshing my email, but nothing arrives. I check on my phone and browse the news as well as social media to try to take my mind off the situation. Every few minutes, I keep checking my email and then approximately half an hour later, I see it.
$5,000
I